


Hold On Tight

by Destiny_in_the_Stars



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Attempted Kidnapping, Blood and Injury, F/M, Revenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-05-18 09:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14850350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destiny_in_the_Stars/pseuds/Destiny_in_the_Stars
Summary: An unfortunate accident leads to a sharp turn of events. He never saw them until it was too late





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry for this.

It started on a cold night, the wind blowing against buildings and brushing at a young boy’s hair.

Miguel Rivera is older now, roughly fifteen years old. He has slightly longer black hair and bright brown eyes, making him look a lot like his great-great grandfather.

It had been three years since his trip to the Land of the Dead, showing the truth of what De la Cruz had truly done.  
  
The poor boy had no idea how soon he would be back.  
  
After proving Ernesto De la Cruz’s fraud and murder of Miguel’s great-great grandfather, Miguel has gained quite the reputation. People constantly ask him about his tales, his family. A lot of them sway to onto Miguel’s side though a rare few challenge his truths.  
  
Everything changed after that.  
  
Miguel keeps Hector’s guitar and takes to playing whenever he can. He hangs around the plaza, becoming a regular face.  
  
He stays one night, guitar in hand as he tunes it. Testing a few strings, Miguel sits by the fountain, humming to a melody.  
  
He starts writing his own songs within a year of meeting Hector that fateful year in Land of the Dead.  
  
He shivers a bit as the air gets colder, releasing his hold on the instrument to zip up his jacket.  
  
A sudden crunching sound catches Miguel’s attention.  
  
It all becomes a blur after that.  
  
There was struggling, a yell. A flash of red.  
  
He jolts, a startled heavy gasp leaving his lips. Miguel glances down at his hands though he seems fine, aside from the odd glow.  
  
“What happened?” He voices and stumbles back in shock.  
  
He’s not dead, but he feels strange like he’s more in limbo.  
  
“Mijo! Are you alright?” A female skeleton asks, noticing the young adolescent all by himself. She frowns because the boy isn’t dead.  
  
He holds a faint glow to his body, eyes an odd mixture of brown and gold.  
  
“Where is your familia, querido?”  
  
Miguel remembers Hector and sighs, “I- I- Rivera. I’m Miguel Rivera.”  
  
”Rivera?! You’re Hector’s boy?”  
  
“He’s not- the Final Death didn’t claim him?!”  
  
“Ay! No, mijo. Come on.”  
  
Miguel follows though he can’t help feeling a tinge of fear. What if he didn’t have a chance to go home? As much as he enjoyed this realm, he still has a family.  
  
He staggers more as he reaches the Rivera household and he coughs sharply, alerting the female skeleton, Maya, leading the way.  
  
“Mijo, estas bien?”  
  
Miguel gasps in pain, his eyes glazing over slightly. He whimpers, barely audible, and suddenly groans because it hurt so, so much.  
  
“Dios mío! Que pasa?”  
  
”I don’t- Hector...”  
  
Miguel collapses to the ground and does not move.  
  
Maya sighs and lifts the boy in her arms, going the rest of the way to the Rivera home.  
  
“Con permiso? Hay alguien?”  
  
To her relief, the door opens, and out steps out Hector Rivera himself. He smiles kindly.  
  
“What can I-“ he falters, glancing at the unconscious boy in Maya’s hold.  
  
“Miguel?” He questions, frowning.  
  
“He is in-“  
  
”Let him rest on the couch. Ay, chamaco, what have you gotten yourself into this time?”

 Miguel shivers and shakes in his state, but he doesn’t wake.

 Hector watches him closely, concerned. He has no idea what happened to the young boy but it worries him to no end. The uncomfortable sensation that Miguel could die gnaws at him for the longest time.

 “Hèctor!” A familiar voice yells.

 The musician freezes and he subconsciously tightens his hold on Miguel.

 “Hector, what is- Dios mío…” Imelda stares in shock as she looks at the sleeping boy in Hector’s grasp.

 “I don’t know what happened to him.” Hector breathes, looking oddly disheveled despite being already dead. He vaguely realizes he’s shaking from the panic that begins to set in.

If Miguel does not wake up, if the boy truly is going to die, he will never see his familia again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who ask, no... Miguel isn’t dead in this chapter. He’s in a coma, right now, and that’s why limbo is mentioned. 
> 
> Mijo- slang for son/boy 
> 
> Familia- family 
> 
> Querido- dear 
> 
> Estas bien- are you alright? 
> 
> Que pasa- what’s happening?/what happened? 
> 
> Con permiso?- Excuse me 
> 
> Hay alguien?- Is there someone?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miguel is amnesiac and Hector is protective

Hector brushes back Miguel’s hair, still keeping a close eye on the sleeping boy. He sighs deeply, because he’s afraid that the poor kid won’t have a chance in the living world. 

“How is he?” The voice of Imelda pulls Hector back to reality. 

“No lo se. He won’t wake up,” Hector whispers as he watches Miguel like a hawk. 

“He’s not dead, mi amor,” Imelda continues though her eyes say she’s worried. 

Miguel stirs slightly, shifting his weight on the couch. He makes a soft noise then starts muttering incoherently like he’s dreaming. The adolescent tosses to one side, whimpering.

”Miguel! Ay, chamaco, wake up!” Hector shouts and shakes the boy lightly. 

Miguel suddenly screams, scrambling away from the skeleton. His expression is wide with terror, his breathing coming out uneven. 

He stares blankly at Hector before he starts registering who it is. 

"Pa-Papa... Hector...?" 

"Ay, mijo, yes. It's me..." Hector sighs.

Miguel is by no means dead but he has this odd glow to his body. It does not seem anything like when he came the first time and that is enough to  frighten Hector. 

"Miguel... it's-" Hector lets out a stunned yelp when Miguel suddenly tackles him, sobs racking the fifteen-year-old boy. 

"I- I mi-missed you... so much!" Miguel sniffs despite being a teenager. In this entire time, he hadn't a clue whether or not Hector survived, but now, after nearly three years, there was an answer. 

"Chamaco, please, calm down." Hector mutters. Either way, he pulls Miguel into a hug in an attempt to comfort him. 

Miguel blushes before he breaks into a coughing fit, a weak groan escaping him. He does not understand what is happening to him. He pulls his hand back and notices his palm is coated in blood. 

"Miguel? What's wrong?" 

"I- I don't feel so good. I don't know what's-" 

_everything was dark and he could hardly see anything. There was a growl, deep and menacing, followed by a scream._

_A pool of blood was on the ground. There was a weak cough coming from... someone._

_"Pl-Please... d-don't-"_

_"You should've left matters lie!" A voice snarled._

_A groan could be heard._

_"No, I- I don't want t-to die..."_

_"Too late, kid."_

"Miguel! Miguel!" Hector yells. 

Miguel jolts, flinching away from his elder relative. He pants heavily, eyes glazed over as if he's confused or lost in one too many thoughts. 

"Miguel, breathe. That's it. Breathe." Hector instructs. 

Slowly but surely, Miguel relaxes and sighs deeply. He still does not understand what is happening but at least he's not alone. 

"Come on, chamaco. Let's go for a walk." Hector tells the semi distraught teenager. 

"Okay," Miguel mumbles, following alongside the elder musician like a puppy. 

"I know this is confusing, but you need to relax." 

It is only through Hector that Miguel calms down because the teenager remains distraught over what might’ve possibly happened.

He always felt a connection towards Hector even with the fact they weren’t even from the same time periods, but they did have a strong bond. 

If only they’d known what was coming. 

If only. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm

Miguel is slowly eating a sugary snack while his great-great grandfather, Hector, watches over him with a worried look on his face.

 

“You really don’t remember everything?”

 

“I- I remember parts of it… there was a man,” Miguel frowns. He shivers violently because he doesn’t want to recall what happened, but if he wants to get back home he has to try.

 

“Alright, gordito, it’s fine. Take your time.”

 

Miguel flashes an appreciative smile and takes another bite of the food. The fifteen-year-old musician suddenly focuses his attention on the sound of music filling the air.

 

“Oh, they’re throwing some party, nothing important.” Hector waves Miguel off.

 

“Hey, isn’t it Hector Rivera?” Someone in the crowd speaks.

 

Miguel looks at his ancestor with a quizzical expression.

 

“Don’t worry about it, chamaco. It’s nothing-“

 

“Hector, are you still playing in the plaza?”

 

Playing? Miguel suddenly smiles and leans in to ask, “Mind if I join?”

 

Hector opens his jaw and closes it again.

 

“You know I- I don’t see why not,” the musician finally gives in.

 

“Thank you, Papa Hector!” Miguel exclaims with eagerness. He flashes a lopsided grin.

 

Hector rolls his eyes.

 

“Don’t worry about it, chamaco.”

 

It had certainly been a while since Miguel last played with Hector in the Land of the Dead.

 

He feels quite at peace getting to sing and perform with Hector especially after certain events were brought to light.

 

“Miguel, listen, chamaco… we’re going to fix this. You’ll have the chance to go home. I promise.”

* * *

 

Back in the Land of the Living, there is a situation because Miguel is currently missing.

 

When his family receives the call, there has been an accident, it’s immediately an uproar. Miguel’s mother, Luisa, is frantically trying to understand what happened because no one can give her a clear answer.

 

“What exactly happened to Miguel?” Miguel’s abuelita, Elena, growls out.

 

“All we know is that he was found unconscious and bleeding in the plaza. He’s still alive, but he’s currently in a coma,” the doctor explains.

 

A coma?

 

Luisa gasps in shock.

 

“I- I don’t understand… was he attacked?”

 

“We don’t know…”

* * *

 

“Come on, chamaco,” Hector grins later that evening. His guitar is slung over his back as he waits for Miguel.

 

The adolescent is clearly nervous, pulling at the borrowed neck tie fastened around his neck. The guitar he’s using remains in his hands, tuning it silently.

 

“Miguel… not getting nervous, are we?”

 

“Huh? No, of course not!” Miguel lies.

 

“Oh, I know you’re nervous,” Hector laughs, earning a glare from his descendant. He flashes a cheeky grin before speaking again.

 

“Ay, Miguel, you’ll do great. You’ve performed in a crowd before.”

 

“I know, but it’s been a while since I did it here…” Miguel replies.

 

“Let’s go, kid. We’re going to do amazing.”

 

“What song are we doing, huh?” Miguel asks as he trails after Hector.

 

“Ay, well… that’s a surprise,” Hector grins.

 

“I- I wrote a song…” Miguel sheepishly speaks.

 

“Que bueno, chamaco!” Hector hums his approval. He laughs with delight when they arrive at a plaza, reading out “Rivera Plaza.”

 

“They changed the name?” Miguel questions, barely containing a smirk at the sight.

 

“Ah, well… I told them not to, but-“

 

If Hector were still human, he would’ve been blushing. He was far too modest for his own good, worrying more over his wife and daughter when he was alive than himself.

 

“But it’s good. You’re finally getting recognized, Hector,” Miguel chuckles. It makes him happy to know that, after all this time, his ancestor had some justice served.

* * *

 

“Ay, dios mio!” Hector groans.

 

Miguel couldn’t help but laugh at Hector’s expense, earning a glare from the musician.

 

“Watch it, gordito…” Hector grumbles though he still smiles and playfully shoves his descendant.

 

“Yeah, yeah…”

 

For a moment, Miguel’s worries vanished. He seems completely normal, for once, and his troubles of his curren state left his mind.

 

Though, who knew how much time Miguel had left? 


	4. Chapter 4

Miguel is pacing back and forth across the guest room he’s staying in, feeling a bit nervous. 

“What’s wrong with you, chamaco?” Hector asks his descendant. 

“I’m just nervous,” Miguel admits. He hasn’t played in the Land of the Dead since he came at the age of twelve. 

“You’ll do fine. I’ve heard you play in the Land of the Living. This is no different,” Hector brightens and happily ruffles Miguel’s hair, earning a startled groan from the younger musician. 

“Yeah, I just-“ Miguel pauses. “It’s weird… being back here.” 

“Don’t worry about- Miguel?” Hector frowns suddenly. 

A sudden gasp tears from Miguel as the boy whimpers from pain, stumbling. His back hits the wall. The young Rivera snarls and his eyes turn white, jerking violently. 

_ Pain flares down his stomach and he hisses, trembling, attempting to stop bleeding. His hands shake as he presses a piece of cloth at his side.  _

_ Just one more second… one more.  _

_ It’s a struggle to stay awake one second longer.  _

“Miguel!” Hector’s voice shouts. 

Miguel jerks again before he collapses, twitching. He doesn’t know what it is, but maybe it has something to do with the memories of his attack. 

It’s all a blur. 

He can’t even remember who attacked him nor how it happened, only small bits and pieces. 

“Miguel, breathe with me. You’re okay,” Hector speaks in a soothing voice. 

Miguel gasps and starts to slowly calm down again. This has been the second time it has happened. He doesn’t have any control over it, leaving him vulnerable and capable of having an episode at any given moment. 

“Breathe. In and out, in and out,” Hector instructs. 

Miguel copies his ancestor’s actions. His eyes well up from embarrassment and he stays silent, shaking badly. 

“I- I can’t re-remember…” 

Hector’s eyes darken briefly as he simply wraps the sixteen-year-old in an embrace, lightly humming to the boy. 

“We will find out what happened to you.” 

Miguel sniffs quietly as he just nods. 

“Do you still—“ 

“I just want to stay here.”

Hector sighs as he keeps Miguel in his embrace, lightly running his skeleton bones through the boy’s hair. 

* * *

 

“I’m worried for him, mi vida,” Hector sighs as he sits down on the bed later that night.

Imelda frowns because she knows how much her husband cares for Miguel and to see either of them hurting is a pain she does not want. She goes to sit beside him, placing her hand on Hector’s shoulder blade. 

“Does he still not know what happened to him?” 

“Nada. What if he blocked it out like-“ Hector freezes momentarily, recalling his own death. 

“Hector?”  Imelda asks with a small concerned look. 

Snapping out of his daze at the sound of Imelda’s voice, Hector just smiles. 

“I’m fine, mi amor,” he lies swiftly. 

There’s enough concern on Miguel. He doesn’t need them worrying about him too. 

“Are you sure?” 

Hector sighs, “I said I’m fine, Imelda. Nothing to concern yourself with.” 

 

Imelda doesn’t look entirely convinced, but decides to the let the matter drop. She knows that Hector won’t willingly talk, but it would be better if he actually said something and eventually she’d get the information. 

* * *

 

While all this is going on, a family is trying to get over the shock of their youngest being in a coma. 

There is still no lead in his attacker or even why it happened. 

Miguel’s condition is stable, but it didn’t mean he would be waking up anytime soon and if they didn’t hurry he could die. 

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miguel tries to remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize this is late, but I’ve been busy and I was trying to finish working on “Never Let Them Go” 
> 
> Enjoy!

It seems as if time has moved slowly. Miguel can hardly remember what happened to him, but he hopes he’ll have the chance to wake up soon. He needs to tell his family he’s okay, that he’ll come home. 

 

He’s too young to die. 

 

He misses his living family. His sister, Socorro, named in honor of his great grandmother, probably doesn’t understand why her older brother isn’t there anymore. He sings to her every night, playing his guitar like his ancestor did. Miguel just wants to see her one last time. 

 

The tears spring in his eyes again, but he forces them as he tries desperately to remember what happened. He taps his fingers against a mahogany table, eyes closed, trying to recall. It takes all his effort to search for that memory. 

 

All he remembers is red and his own scream as he tries to fight against whoever did this to him. 

 

Miguel bites back the urge to simply let go. It would be very easy for him to stay in the Land of the Dead and that notion frightened him. As a coma patient, he might accidentally slip into a deathly state. 

 

Half the time he lies, exclaiming he’s fine, not wishing to tell his dead family that he can barely keep going. Miguel focuses plainly on  _ remembering.  _ He gasps suddenly, though he’s alone and can’t call for help. 

 

That feeling to hold on tight reels itself in the back of his mind, pushing him forward. He trembled and shakes, yet either way he keeps going, calling forth the memory. 

 

Something from that night forces itself into his vision. 

 

_ “You should’ve left matters be,” a voice hisses.  _

 

A scream tears free from his mouth and he jerks, whimpering softly. It’s too much. It’s too much. 

 

Someone is shouting and yet he continues trying to push the memory forward. 

 

“Miguel! Enough!” A somewhat familiar voice shouts. 

 

He gasps for air. It’s when he notices Hector trying to snap him back into reality. 

 

“I- I have to kn-know…”

 

“You can’t strain yourself like this!”

 

Brown eyes well up with tears then he pauses, before suddenly passing out. 

 

With a sigh, Hector picks up his great-great grandson in his arms and carried the boy to the couch, setting him down. 

 

“Ay, chamaco, what are we going to do with you?” He murmurs, his fingers running across Miguel’s hair. 

 

Miguel does not wake until a few hours later, irises slowly opening. He groans softly and tries to stand, wincing at the way his head is throbbing. 

 

“Miguel, just what were you thinking?”

 

Confusion settles on the boy’s face before he remembers what he did. He rubs the back of his neck nervously until he finally speaks again. 

 

“I know what happened to me.” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A truth is revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have returned! Sorry! I’ve been so busy with real life, and therefore unable to reply... 
> 
> But here is a long awaited chapter

 

Miguel smiles wide as he grabs his guitar from the foot of his bed, deciding he wants to play at the plaza. He grabs hold of his songbook, which is a lovely brown of a color, and heads downstairs to eat breakfast. 

 

The sixteen-year-old hums to himself, his fingers tapping against the kitchen table to the melody of a song. He pulls out a bowl and fills it with cereal, taking a spoon from the drawer. 

 

Miguel continues humming. Now that the music ban has been lifted, he finds a pleasure in connecting everything to the music and soul. The boy knows that someday he might aspire to be a musician, maybe get a scholarship. 

 

Once he’s finished with breakfast, the boy races out the door, knowing his family already will have an idea that he’s there. Miguel has been going there on a daily basis when he’s not held up with something at home. It’s still daylight and the boy is soon greeted by familiar “hello’s” from the passing people. 

 

He reaches the fountain, sitting on the ground to try writing on a new song. Miguel tunes out his ancestor’s guitar and tests out a few strings. He sings softly to himself before pulling out the songbook to write something down. It’s the joy of being young, of finally getting the chance to be who he is, that Miguel enjoys. 

 

After his trip down to the Land of the Dead, Miguel finds a comfort in family and playing to the strings of the soul. He draws a crowd, but he’s only focused on singing. The boy can’t help wondering if his great-great grandfather, Hector, made it that night. 

 

Miguel realizes he’s hungry and with some saved up money buys lunch. He sits on the steps of the small market, smiling and waving at those passing by.

 

Sometime later evening begins to roll. Miguel is still out playing, writing down the lyrics to his new song. He dances to the beat of someone else’s music, completely lost in the moment. The adolescent doesn’t even begin to notice when people begin leaving to head back home.

 

He holds his guitar close to him while the case is laying towards his right. Miguel continued to strum when he suddenly stops and notices how the sun is starting to set. He lets loose a soft sigh because it’s about time he heads back home. The young musician freezes when a cold wind blows to his left, hearing as if footsteps were approaching. 

 

“Who-“ he swallows back the nervousness in his throat, eyes widening to realize he feels like he’s being watched. 

 

In a sudden state of panic, he yelps when a force slams into him. Miguel falls down and he scrambles back to his feet, trying to regain some ground. He stumbles, his head pounding due to the pipe he’s been hit with. It’s a struggle at this point to keep fighting, but he does. 

 

“You should’ve let matters be!” His attacker snarls. 

 

“Wh- I did what I had to do! He ruined my family!” Miguel hisses as he steps back nervously, not wanting to get hurt. 

 

The man in front of him pulls out a blade. 

 

Miguel gasps and moves further back to avoid getting hit when he lets out a horrible scream, the blade digging into his ribcage. He thrashes and tries to struggle, whimpering, because it  _ hurts so much.  _

 

“N-No, pl-please!” He trembles, jerking. 

 

The pain is blinding,  _ agonizing,  _ and he snarls softly, wanting it to end. Slowly he feels as if his hold in reality has begun to slip, his eyes half closed. 

 

Just one more-

 

He gasps and with one final movement, he slumps, not moving. 

 

Miguel wakes to feel an absence in him. He glances at his hands, thankful to see skin still. The boy whimpers because he still has this missing feeling. He looks to his left, noticing the form of a skeleton. 

 

With one startling realization he knows he’s back in the Land of the Dead. He is familiar with the people here, so he has an idea of where to go. 

 

He must find his family. 

 

Maybe they’ll know how to help. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The situation takes an interesting turn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... this happened. I didn't know how to go about it. I'm sorry if it's not the best, but I have been delaying progress with the chapters and I wanted you guys to enjoy this without thinking I've abandoned it

By the time Miguel finished his story, Hector is silent. He does not know what to say to make it better. Anger rises suddenly, gritting his teeth when it’s revealed that Miguel  _ was attacked.  _

 

“Papa Hector?” Miguel asks nervously. 

 

Hector’s wave of anger ceases. He smiles warmly at his descendant, because he needs to say something. Anything. 

 

“Miguel… ay, chamaco, no one should have to go through that.” Hector swallows thickly. He can not help but think of what would have happened if Miguel wasn’t so lucky and actually died. No, he needs to stop thinking about it. 

 

Miguel suddenly breaks down, crying, in Hector’s arms. The only sound is Hector singing softly, trying to offer some sort of comfort to the poor boy. He had his arms wrapped around the younger Rivera, holding him close. 

 

“I was s-scared…” 

 

Hector shushes him softly until he feels Miguel beginning to relax. 

 

There’s silence from both of them. What happens now? Miguel still has a chance to go back. He’s not dead. He wants his family back, to see them one last time. To live his life. 

 

“I want to go home,” Miguel whimpers. 

 

“And you will, chamaco. I promise you that.” 

 

It’s only been two weeks since Miguel arrived, but it’s still enough to worry everyone. How long will it be before Miguel loses that chance to go back? That feeling lingers in everyone’s mind. 

 

“I don’t want to stay here anymore.” 

 

Hector sighs because he really doesn’t know how to make this right. If he could somehow get into contact with Miguel’s living family, he would, but he can’t. He doesn’t want to see Miguel in pain for much longer. 

 

The reality of the situation weighs in the back of their minds. 

 

Miguel is struggling enough as it is. He suddenly gets up, without another word, because it’s too much. 

 

“Miguel?” Hector frowns and pulls the boy back. “Mira… why don’t we go out and do something? Just the two of us.” 

 

The boy looks at his ancestor with a small smile. After a moment, he gives in with a nod. Miguel trails close to Hector, more at ease now. 

 

Everything seems to go more slowly now, but at least Miguel is happy. Hector takes him to the plaza for a little while, bringing along his guitar to perform for his descendant. 

 

“Thank you, Hector,” Miguel mumbles. 

 

Hector goes to say something, but out of nowhere Miguel freezes. The musician looks at the teenager confused. 

 

“Miguel?”

 

The adolescent seems confused when he suddenly goes down, his body shaking violently. He gasps as his eyes seem to appear brighter. Miguel whimpers and jerks, barely hearing when Hector starts yelling for help. 

 

“Miguel! Help! Someone help!” 

 

“I- I don’t know-“ Miguel whines softly. He grasps Hector’s hand, trying to understand what’s happening. His vision begins to darken, feeling like he’s drowning, being pulled somewhere else. 

 

“MIGUEL!” 

 

And everything does black. 

 

When Miguel awakes, he’s suddenly laying on a hospital bed, gasping for air. He shivers violently, because this can’t be happening. He needs to go back and tell Hector that everything is fine. The adolescent has no understanding of why he’d suddenly left the Land of the Dead. 

 

At the same time, Hector is stressing out over why Miguel vanished out of nowhere. The Rivera ancestor sighs deeply and rushes back to his beloved wife’s shoe shop, hoping there might be answers over what has just happened. This kind of situation has never happened before, especially since Miguel didn’t go back through a family blessing. Unless he’d woken up out of whatever state he was in. 

 

He just hoped that Miguel was back with his family. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So- Miguel is now out of his coma... let's see what happens now


	8. Notice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry if you were all expecting a chapter

Dear fellow writers and commenters,

 

I’ve been considering to either scrap this story or rewrite it. I’m sorry if these last couple chapters weren’t my best. If any of you want me to continue this story, let me in the comments, but I also want to know if you’d rather be continue directly from the current one or restart it. 

 

I really do apologize, my lovelies. 

 

Best Regards,

 

dream 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miguel is whisked back into the living world and Hector deals with the aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally decided to release the new chapter of "Hold On Tight." Thank you, my lovely readers, for all the support! It's really getting me back into writing.

Hector startles when he can’t see Miguel in the room anymore. He’s only vaguely aware of someone speaking to him, trying to find the boy. 

 

“Miguel!” The physically twenty-one-year-old skeleton shouts. He glances nervously towards the spot where Miguel once stood. An uneasy feeling settles its way into Hector, getting that sensation of metaphorical blood rushing heavily into his body. 

 

He gasps in shock when a hand is placed on his shoulder, whirling around to see Imelda. 

 

“Imelda!” Hector grins nervously, feeling like his metaphorical heart was pounding. 

 

“Hector… what is going on?” Imelda frowns, seeing the distress evident in her husband’s expression. Her eyes narrow when she realizes Miguel isn’t there. 

 

“It’s… Miguel- he just vanished-” Hector manages to say. 

 

He’s greeted by Imelda’s sudden sharp gaze, keeping silent when his wife’s lips pressed together. Hector does not say anything else for another minute before Imelda finally decides to react. 

 

“Vanished? Vanished where?” Imelda sharply demands. 

 

In a panicked state, Hector replies, “I- I don’t… don’t know.” 

 

He’s upset, fearing that there’s a chance Miguel might not be coming back. Hector closes his irises briefly, trying not to remember how his descendant wasn’t there anymore. He’s still trembling and barely reacts when Imelda pulls him into a hug. 

 

A ragged sob escapes him, hoping beyond everything that this didn’t mean Miguel was dead. Then again why had he just disappeared like that? 

 

“He’s probably back in the living world,” Imelda murmurs. She does not want to see Hector in this state, especially after everything that has happened since Miguel came several years ago to the Land of the Dead. 

 

“Yo-You’re probably right…” Hector mumbles, finally managing to have calmed down. 

 

Imelda sighs and pulls back, frowning. She wants to convince herself that their relative is safe. She suddenly nods, grabbing Hector’s hand and leads him to the bedroom. Neither of them say anything, until at last Imelda breaks the silence. 

 

“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” Imelda answers. 

 

Hector manages to nod in response. The musician sighs deeply. 

 

“I just…” he pauses briefly. “I just want him to be okay. He told me what happened to him.” 

 

Imelda’s gaze seems to harden, if that were even possible, and nods at Hector to tell her what happened. She listens while Hector tells the story of how Miguel was attacked. The shoemaker is growling by the time the tale is over. 

 

“He didn’t deserve to be  _ attacked _ ,” Hector spits the word like it’s poison, his entire body trembling in reply. 

 

“Had I been there-” Imelda trails off. She would never have wished harm upon Miguel like how it had occurred to him. Her metaphorical heart is pounding heavily, thinking of how the boy might have died if he hadn’t been placed in a coma. 

 

The only thing that goes through their minds is somehow making sure Miguel is okay. 

 

_ Pain, pain, pain.  _

 

_ He whimpers and struggles against the force holding him, squirming against the man keeping him ensnared.  _

 

_ It hurts so much. He can’t really breathe, unable to move. He feels like he’s suffocating.  _

 

_ “Please, j-just let… “ he stammers and screams when the blade hits him.  _

 

With a startled gasp, he shivers violently, brown eyes wide because he refuses to sleep due to the nightmares. He does not know how he landed back in the living world. 

 

Now that he’s back in Santa Cecilia, he does not know what to do since he’s alone in a hospital. Miguel whimpers, recalling his own attack. 

 

He is still too young, barely even sixteen. 

 

Miguel jolts and closes his eyes, trying to get the sleep he desperately needs. He gaps in sudden pain, feeling the effects of getting stabbed. He lets out a half shriek, because out of nowhere, he feels as though there’s tension in his stomach and ribs. 

 

Moaning he weakly, MIguel slips back into unconsciousness. 


End file.
